Bundle of Joy

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  “I remember.” Joe’s own family never gave religion any thought. He’d been led to Christ by a friend in college.

  “After my marriage and divorce, I realized I needed to get my life back in order, and that included getting right with God.” She sighed. “But it isn’t as easy as I thought it would be, finding a place to belong.”

  “So where are we going this morning?”

  “Grandpa’s choosing.”

  “He knows you don’t belong to a church?”

  “Yes, he asked me about it yesterday when you were up skiing.”

  God willing, Alicia’s search for a fellowship would help Joe find a place to worship in the Boise area, too. He pictured the three of them—him, a very pregnant Alicia, and her retired pastor grandfather—sitting side by side in a pew and wondered what the Lord thought of their masquerade. Was telling a lie ever right in God’s eyes, even when it was done for a good reason?

  Joe succeeded in keeping himself busy in the days that followed. He was less successful at keeping Alicia out of his thoughts.

  On Sunday afternoon, after they had returned from church, Joe had gone to the slopes at Bogus Basin. On Monday, he’d gone to the library, ostensibly to do research, although he caught himself daydreaming all too frequently, and most of those daydreams included Alicia. On Tuesday he’d not only had interviews with two Boise law firms but he’d also checked out four apartments in different parts of the city. On Wednesday he’d spent long hours in the basement of Alicia’s home, closing more of his files, preparing to ship them back to his old firm in California.

  He’d spent as little time as possible with Alicia and Grandpa Roger, pretending it was the demands of work and not because he wanted to avoid them. He wasn’t sure if he’d fooled the older man or not; he was certain he hadn’t fooled Alicia.

  He awakened on Thursday morning to the sound of a storm buffeting the old farmhouse. Naked tree limbs whipped the siding and scraped the windows and rooftop. He sat up, listening to the lonely wail of the wind.

  After a moment, he got out of bed to look out the window and promptly stubbed his toe on a leg of the crib. He groaned but managed to swallow a few choice words as he sank onto the bed again.

  “Joe?”

  When would he remember she could hear him all the time through that stupid monitor?

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Just ran into something in the dark.” He picked up the monitor, bringing it closer to his lips. “Don’t you ever sleep?”

  “The storm woke me.”

  “Me, too.”

  “There must be ten inches of snow on the ground.”

  “Really?” He rose to have a look for himself.

  “The valley almost never gets that much snow.”

  The back porch light revealed a winter wonderland beyond the window.

  “You going in to work today?” he asked.

  “Not today.”

  “Good. The roads will be bad. You shouldn’t be driving in this.”

  They were silent awhile.

  “Joe?”

  “Yeah?” He sat down again.

  “I need to ask a favor.”

  Another one? “What?”

  “Grandpa asked if he can visit my birthing class that starts soon. He wants to go with us.”

  “Us?”

  “Yes.” Her reply was nearly inaudible. “Just once, he said.”

  “Ooh, boy.”

  “I’m sorry, Joe.”

  He raked the fingers of both hands through his hair. “I guess it can’t be helped. Not unless you decide to tell him the truth. Which I still think you should do.”

  She hiccuped.

  At least, that’s what he thought he heard. But a moment or two later he realized she was crying. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  Over another choked sob, she answered, “It isn’t your fault. It’s my own. I got myself into this mess.”

  “True enough.” He smoothed his hand over his hair. “But with good intentions.”

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I never realized how hard this would be on you.”

  “I’m a big boy. I can take it.”

  “Even Lamaze?” There was a note of amusement in her voice now.

  “Even that,” he answered, not sure that he spoke the truth.

  “You’re a special kind of man, Joe Palermo.”

  Her words caused threads of emotion to wrap around his heart, confusing him. He should get out of this mess and fast. But he couldn’t leave her, couldn’t disappoint her, couldn’t break his promise. Why? Some misplaced sense of obligation?

  Who was he kidding? He couldn’t leave because he wanted to be here—here with Alicia.

  Alicia was surprised to find she’d drifted back to sleep. It was the sound of a snow shovel scraping concrete that awakened her the second time.

  Feeling groggy and out of sorts, she got up and walked to the window, slipping into her robe as she went. She pulled back the curtains—and was blinded by the brightness of the snowy morning.

  Wearing his ski garb, Joe shoveled the back walk. He worked with a steady, smooth rhythm, sliding the shovel beneath the heavy snow, then effortlessly raising it over his shoulder and letting the snow fly toward the yard.

  It was nice to have a man around the house.

  She groaned as she turned from the window. How corny could she get? What was she going to do next? Start wearing a shirtwaist dress, heels and pearls while she did the housework? She’d been shoveling her own sidewalks for eleven winters, ever since she inherited this house from her grandparents. She could have shoveled them today, too, even big, fat and pregnant. She wasn’t helpless.

  Humphrey gave her a stiff jab in the ribs.

  “Ouch!” She looked down and touched her stomach. “Well, I could. And exercise would do you good, too, little one.”

  Scrape…scrape…scrape… The sound drew her gaze back to the window.

  “It is nice to have his help.”

  More than nice…wonderful.

  More than wonderful…because it was Joe.

  She touched the windowpane with the palm of her hand. “How could I let this happen?” she whispered. “How could I let myself begin to love you?”

  A knock sounded on her door. “Alicia?” her grandfather said softly from the hallway.

  “Yes?”

  “May I come in?”

  “Yes.”

  Grandpa Roger wasn’t smiling when he stepped into the room.

  “Morning, Grandpa.”

  “Alicia, did you and Joe have a disagreement?”

  She shook her head, wondering what prompted the question.

  “I don’t mean to pry, but I saw him coming out of the nursery this morning. It looked to me as if he’d slept there.”

  Oh, dear. Now what did she do?

  “You don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not. I just thought—”

  “Nothing’s wrong, Grandpa.” She turned toward the window, hiding her face from her grandfather’s shrewd eyes. “We didn’t fight. I was restless in the night. Lots of tossing and turning. When I get like that, sometimes Joe goes into the other room so he can get some sleep. It actually helps me because then I’m not uncomfortable and regretting that I’m keeping him up, too.”

  “I see.”

  “You don’t have to worry about us. We’re fine.”

  There was a lengthy silence.

  Then her grandfather said, “All right, my dear.”

  A moment later the bedroom door closed and she was once again alone.

  Scrape…scrape…scrape…

  “Oh, Joe I wish…”

  But she didn’t dare speak her wish aloud. It would only make her heartbreak more complete when January came and Joe was gone from her life.

  Much as Alicia had been doing when he entered her bedroom a short while before, Roger stood at the kitchen window and watched Joe shoveling snow off the walk between the back porch and the unattached garage
.

  Roger Harris hadn’t served fifty-five years in the ministry without learning a thing or two about people. His granddaughter was lying to him; she was as transparent as glass. Things weren’t right between her and Joe. It was obvious Alicia loved that young man, and Roger believed her husband returned her love. But sometimes, the way they acted, the way they spoke, it all seemed so…so…

  He shook his head, wishing he could put his finger on what bothered him. More important, he wished he could put his finger on what bothered them.

  Christ told His followers that knowing the truth would set them free, but He was speaking of Himself. Jesus was the Truth, and it was knowing Him that set people free. Not all truth accomplished freedom. Some truths could keep a person in bondage for years without the grace of God.

  Still, Roger would like to hear the truth from these two young folks. He would like to understand what was going on in this home. If he knew what was amiss, perhaps he could help Joe and Alicia find their way.

  He closed his eyes and took his concerns to his Father.

  After two decades in California, Joe had forgotten what hard work shoveling snow was. But it had served a good purpose. He’d worked off a lot of his frustration by the time he finished.

  As he stepped through the back door into the utility room, he smelled breakfast cooking. Bacon, if he wasn’t mistaken.

  “Another month here, and my cholesterol’s going to be off the charts.”

  He removed his boots and set them on a rug next to the door. Then he hung his coat on a hook, sticking his gloves in the coat’s pockets. He hesitated before taking his first step toward the kitchen door. He wanted to make certain Rosie wasn’t lying in wait for him.

  Man, how he hated that cat.

  The coast appeared clear, so he proceeded toward the kitchen. But it wasn’t Alicia whom Joe discovered standing at the counter, removing a golden-brown waffle from the waffle iron. It was Grandpa Roger.

  “Hungry?” the older man asked. “I figured you must’ve worked up quite an appetite, clearing all the walks.”

  “I could eat.” Joe glanced toward the living room. “Where’s Alicia?”

  “In the shower, I think.”

  If circumstances were different—if Alicia weren’t carrying another man’s baby, if she weren’t the type of woman who wanted husband, home, family—he would have welcomed a relationship with her. He liked being with her.

  When she wasn’t crying.

  As if reading his mind, Grandpa Roger said, “Pregnant women aren’t always easy to live with.”

  “What?”

  “I said, pregnant women aren’t always easy to live with.” He carried a platter of waffles and bacon to the kitchen table.

  “Is any woman?”

  Grandpa Roger chuckled. “You have a point.” He motioned for Joe to sit down. “Alicia said she wasn’t hungry yet, so we’ll go ahead without her.”

  After Joe had sat down, the older man blessed the food, then passed the platter across the table.

  “The bacon is all yours.” Grandpa Roger sighed, a sound of true regret, but he quickly changed the subject back to Alicia. “My wife was like Alicia when she was expecting our son. I never knew what would upset her. Seemed I was always making an egregious error of one kind or another. If she wasn’t crying, then she wasn’t speaking to me.”

  Joe nodded.

  “And during those last months of her pregnancy, I hardly got a single good night’s sleep. My, how Teresa tossed and turned. Sometimes she even talked in her sleep. Alicia ever do that?”

  “Not that I’ve heard. But then, I’m a sound sleeper. I can sleep through almost anything.”

  Grandpa Roger looked thoughtful. “Lucky you.”

  Joe had the strange feeling he’d said something wrong, although what it could be, he hadn’t a clue.

  The older man filled his juice glass, then took a few sips. Afterward, he set the glass on the table, his right index finger tapping the rim. “Love covers a multitude of sins.”

  “Sir?”

  “I was reflecting on forgiveness. Without the ability to forgive, my marriage to Teresa never would have lasted fifty-three years.”

  “Fifty-three years?” Joe let out a soft whistle. “That’s a long time.”

  Grandpa Roger smiled. “Yes. And worth every bit of effort to make it last, too.” He took another sip of juice. “What about your parents? How long have they been married?”

  “They divorced while I was in law school. Mom’s remarried now. Dad’s come close a few times to taking another plunge, but he hasn’t gone through with it. I don’t think he will. He’s soured on marriage.” He almost added, Like father, like son.

  “That’s a shame.”

  Joe shrugged. “Yes, but my folks were miserable when they were together.”

  Rags trotted into the kitchen, nails clicking on the linoleum, interrupting whatever the older man might have said next. Right behind the dog came Alicia, her hair still damp from the shower. She wore a hot-pink maternity top with big black polka dots on it, a pair of black leggings, and those silly bunny slippers.

  She looked adorable.

  Made Joe wish he could get up and give her a real kiss.

  “Good morning.” She stopped behind her grandfather’s chair. “Thanks for making breakfast.” She kissed him on the top of his head. Then her eyes shifted to Joe. “You had a busy morning.”

  “Yeah.”

  “The walks look great.”

  “Had to be done. Gotta be able to get to the cars.”

  She went to her chair and sat down.

  “Are you ready for a waffle?” Grandpa Roger asked as he lifted the platter.

  “No. Just juice, thanks.”

  Joe passed her the carton. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “I’m fine.” She didn’t look at him.

  “Don’t forget you’re supposed to be eating for two.”

  She glanced up and their gazes met.

  After a moment he smiled at her. A few seconds more and he realized it was important that she smile at him in return. More important than it should have been if he hoped to avoid further emotional entanglements.

  Which he did.

  Didn’t he?

  Chapter Nine

  The following Saturday was another hectic day at Bundles of Joy. Only three weeks before Christmas, the shopping madness was in full swing.

  Alicia had hired several seasonal salesclerks, but there still didn’t seem to be enough help. There never seemed to be a moment for anybody to sit down and rest their aching feet, let alone for Alicia to take her customary catnap.

  It was nearly four o’clock when she finished ringing up a customer who was outfitting an entire nursery for her son and his wife.

  “It’s the least I can do for my first grandchild, don’t you think? I’d nearly given up on them having children.”

  As the woman left the store, Alicia noticed Joe standing near the shop doorway, watching her. She had no idea how long he’d been there. She glanced around, looking for her grandfather, but he was nowhere to be seen. She felt a spark of alarm.

  “Where’s Grandpa?”

  “I left him napping in front of the TV.”

  “Is he feeling all right? He isn’t—?”

  “He’s fine. You need to quit worrying.”

  “I just thought…when I saw you alone—”

  “Can’t a man come to take his wife out to dinner, if he wants?”

  Her heart skipped a beat.

  “Even if she’s a make-believe wife?” he finished with a conspiratorial wink.

  Disappointment flooded through her.

  “Your grandfather considered it a good idea.”

  “Be honest. It was his idea to start with. He put you up to this, didn’t he?”

  Joe gave her a wry smile. “He’s a hard man to argue with. I’m learning I might as well just go with the flow.”

  She nodded in agreement. “I won’t be finished here until
six.”

  “That’s okay. I don’t mind waiting. I’ll do some Christmas shopping and come back for you.”

  Who would he be shopping for? Alicia wondered.

  As if she’d spoken the question aloud, he said, “What is it you want for Christmas?”

  “Me? But you don’t have to buy me a—”

  “Yes, I do. What would your grandfather think if I didn’t give you a gift for our first Christmas together?”

  She sighed. “I guess you’re right. I suppose you’d better tell me what you want to find under the tree, too. A wife should know these things.”

  “Surprise me.” His grin broadened, and his gaze seemed to caress her cheek. “I love surprises.”

  “Do you?” she asked, feeling breathless again.

  He leaned closer, lowered his voice. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Don’t you?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  She’d been surprised by her feelings for Joe Palermo; she loved him more than she’d thought possible. But did she like that surprise? No, not when she suspected how much it was going to hurt later on.

  Downtown Boise was aglow with Christmas lights. Store windows were draped with garlands of green, the glass sprayed with frosty-white images of elves and bells and pine trees, the displays enticing. The chilly December wind hadn’t kept shoppers at home. Even this late in the afternoon, the sidewalks and department stores and small specialty shops were filled with men, women and children in search of the perfect gifts for their loved ones.

  Stopped outside a dress shop, Joe turned up his coat collar and stared at a pretty party dress of aquamarine chiffon in the center of the window display. The color matched Alicia’s eyes. It would look great on her—in a couple more months.

  He shook his head. He didn’t want to give her something she couldn’t use now.

  He turned and continued down the sidewalk.

  Alicia hadn’t told him what he should get her for Christmas. Not even a clue. She wouldn’t need anything for the baby. She could buy those things wholesale. Besides, he wanted his gift to be just for her. Something personal. Something for Alicia alone.

  What did a man buy for a wife who was still a stranger to him?